


Bridge the Gap

by patchesjames



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Near Death Experiences, Soul Bond, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4465844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchesjames/pseuds/patchesjames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knew the way everyone looked at the two of them, like they were some mythical star-crossed lovers. That they pushed and challenged each other in all the right ways and one day they would fall hopelessly in love.</p><p>Stiles thought they were usually the only odd two out that weren’t always paired up; that’s why everyone kept pushing and picturing them together. Sure, he knew Derek was attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but he wasn’t the great love of his life. He was just his pack member.</p><p>Members of their pack had come and gone--some by choice and others, God, Stiles couldn’t even think some of their names let alone even bear to say them out loud. But despite it all, Scott, Stiles, and Derek had stayed together and would stay together. The only three permanent members in Stiles’ mind.</p><p>Stiles hadn’t given up part of himself so that he and Derek could fall madly in love. He just did what anyone else in his tri-fold pack would have done for him; watched his back, gave him another chance, extended his life for as much longer as he could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bridge the Gap

**Author's Note:**

> My first Teen Wolf Reverse Bang and what a ride it's been! Happy to get this in under the wire.
> 
> Thanks so much to Imera for her amazing artwork, please go check it out! :  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4466939
> 
> http://twreversebang.livejournal.com/67363.html
> 
>  
> 
> And thanks so much to the TWRB mods and community for running this shindig!
> 
> Warnings: Small depictions of violence and Stiles using a knife very quickly to cut himself and Derek for a ritual experience.

“Scott,” Stiles grunted, “Scott, please.”

“Sorry!” Scott exclaimed stumbling over next to Stiles’ side to help lift Derek—not Derek’s body, Stiles refused to let his mind wander there just yet—over to the circle Stiles had started constructing. 

The two boys shuffled over—Stiles with Derek’s top half in arms, Scott with Derek’s bottom—until they could place Derek, gently, into the circle. Stiles reached down and laid Derek’s legs out straight. He looked down at the body-Derek, his forehead creasing in a frown, before reaching up to rest Derek’s arms across his chest. 

He looked up to meet Scott’s gaze, “I just want him to be comfortable.”

Scott’s eyes lingered on the other boy as Stiles settled the candles in place and brushed the mountain ash around the circle. Stiles’ own eyes trailed over the hole in the floor, the cracked floorboards hadn’t even been moved yet. A resurrection had happened in this very spot already, Stiles hoped that it was enough for another.

Scott looked around the decaying walls and ash covered remains of Derek’s family home. “Stiles,” He finally found his voice. “Stiles, are you sure?”

Stiles had already begun to light the candles. Once he was finished, he took off his hoodie, revealing the trails of colorful ink that ran up the back of his arms. Scott knew he wasn’t going to ignore his question, that he was just waiting.

“Are you sure you want to open yourself up like this again?” Scott continued, the name ‘nogitsune’ right there on his tongue.

Stiles walked across the room and picked up the dagger. It was made from the pieces of Kira’s katana that had pierced the nogitsune’s chest—Stiles hated how comfortable it felt in his hand. He made a small incision in both of his wrists, just enough for a bit of blood flow. He smeared the blood across Derek’s chest with his fingers—spelling out runes that he’d only read of and had never actually seen before. He used the dagger one last time to cut a cross shaped mark in Derek’s chest, mixing Derek’s blood with his own.

Scott looked as if he wanted to say something else, but then settled outside of the circle. He needed to stay for it to work.

Stiles dropped the knife and closed the mountain ash circle. “Scott,” he sighed picking up the dagger and kneeling down at Derek’s side, the candles flickering in the breeze, light dancing across Derek’s pale face. “I don’t have a choice.”

And with that, he closed his eyes, murmured the words to himself in Latin, and plunged the dagger into Derek’s stomach.

\----------

Derek could feel himself floating in and out of consciousness, floating was really the only sensation he could feel. His eyes didn’t want to open and he didn’t feel as if he could move his limbs even if he tried. He felt someone moving him, calling his name, and all he could do was to push them away. At least, he tried to push them away, he didn’t believe his arms were currently working.

“Derek,” There was his name again; spoken softly and by two voices at the same time. Two voices he knew well, almost as well as his own, but he couldn’t place.

He tried to push out one more time, but then felt something pulling inside of him. It was a darkness and a light all at once. He gave himself over to it and then everything went black.

\----------

The next time Derek woke up he could barely open his eyes. The first thing he smelled was Scott and Stiles, and their unique mixture of Scott-and-Stiles, the smell that could only exist because of the time and proximity the two had forged together. He could tell by the scent alone that Scott had been there recently and then left, but that Stiles was still there. Ungluing his eyelids was almost torturous at this point, but doing so confirmed his notion. Stiles was on his couch, one arm flung off the side, the other up and over his face; shielding his eyes as his mouth hung open; a soft snore coming from his side of the room.

Derek wasn’t surprised to find that Scott and Stiles had been there; the three of them almost always licked their wounds together in Derek’s loft after a battle. Sometimes the others joined; Kira, Malia, Liam more often than the other two. But Scott, Stiles, and Derek made a point to check in—it’s what a pack did.

Derek was surprised to find himself in his own bed and Stiles on the couch. When Scott was the one taking care of everyone Derek almost always awoke on his couch and with Stiles in his bed. He didn’t blame Scott for it, when Stiles was hurt Scott put his comfort over everyone else’s. Even when he wasn’t hurt as well.

Derek’s brow furrowed at the thought, he must have been really out of it for Scott to have tended to him first. When he tried to move and take a mental inventory of his aches and pains he received confirmation that he felt totally and utterly gutted. He’d been hurt before; had a pole ripped through his chest and wolfsbane poison pumping throughout his veins. But he couldn’t ever remember feeling this bad, or tired. He could feel his healing thrumming underneath all of the hurt, but it was slow to respond and muted. He remembered the witch; remembered seeing her focusing on him and laughing and muttering; remembered Scott’s roar and Stiles’ scream of outrage. But he didn’t know what she could have possibly done to make him feel like this.

He’d have to ask Stiles when he woke up. As a matter of fact, more sleep felt great to Derek right now, and he let the pull of it carry him under.

When Derek woke the next time, it was to Stiles sitting on the edge of his bed, offering him an open bottle of Gatorade. Lemon-lime, Derek’s favorite.

“Here,” Stiles said, tipping the bottle towards Derek’s mouth.

Derek let the liquid slide down his throat, not even bothering to reach out for the bottle, because Stiles wouldn’t have that. Derek nodded when he’d had his fill and Stiles pulled the bottle away.

“How did you-“Derek started, but then began to cough from drinking too fast. Stiles was immediately there--helping Derek sit up and smoothing a hand across his forehead as the last of the choking subsided.

Derek groaned as he lowered himself back to the bed and Stiles placed the drink on his bedside table. “I feel like death,” he decreed.

Stiles flinched at his words and Derek could smell the waves of unease coming off of him.

“What happened?”

Stiles sighed. “Well, what do you remember?”

“I remember,” Derek strained at the sleep still tugging at him, as if his body couldn’t get enough rest. “I remember the witch, I remember her saying that you shouldn’t be with the pack. Then there was a darkness and someone--someones--calling my name, but that’s it.”

Stiles moved to get up as if to pace, but let out a shocked gasp and reached automatically for his left side, sinking back down to the edge of the bed. Derek could feel a dull throbbing underneath the wall of hurt in his side as well.

“Are you okay? Did she hurt you too? Scott?”

Stiles shook his head. “No, just you.”

“Then why,” Derek’s brow furrowed, reaching out a hand to Stiles’ arm to start pulling pain from him. Stiles quickly pulled his arm out of Derek’s reach.

“You can’t stand anymore pain right now, you’re still healing. I’m fine, it’s just a scratch.”

Derek didn’t believe him, he couldn’t sense a lie, but there was something he wasn’t telling him.

\----------

Once Stiles was sure that Derek was secure enough to not pass out again for an indeterminable amount of time, he slipped on his slightly blood smattered sweatshirt and started the five mile trek home. He usually drove Scott and himself home after an epic battle and pain hangover session at Derek’s, but he’d let Scott take the jeep to check on if the witch had gotten to the others by this point.

A quick text from Scott confirmed that they were the only three that had encountered her thus far. Stiles winced at the pain still tugging in his side---if it felt this sharp to him it must have been unbearable to Derek. Apparently sealing your blood with someone and bonding your lives and souls together caused the pain threshold to travel between the two of them, who knew? He wondered what else would come from the bond--if he’d have a sort of empathy with Derek and always know what he was feeling. God, that sounded horrible.

He knew the way everyone looked at the two of them, like they were some mythical star-crossed lovers. That they pushed and challenged each other in all the right ways and one day they would fall hopelessly in love.

Stiles thought they were usually the only odd two out that weren’t always paired up; that’s why everyone kept pushing and picturing them together. Sure, he knew Derek was attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but he wasn’t the great love of his life. He was just his pack member.

Members of their pack had come and gone--some by choice and others, God, Stiles couldn’t even think some of their names let alone even bear to say them out loud. But despite it all, Scott, Stiles, and Derek had stayed together and would stay together. The only three permanent members in Stiles’ mind.

Stiles hadn’t given up part of himself so that he and Derek could fall madly in love. He just did what anyone else in his tri-fold pack would have done for him; watched his back, gave him another chance, extended his life for as much longer as he could.

\----------

“Good, good, like that,” Derek nodded as Scott’s foot came flying at his face. Derek dodged to the side, avoiding the blow, but wasn’t as lucky when Scott turned around quickly and shoved his opposite foot towards Derek’s solar plexus.

Derek let out something akin to an ‘oof’ sound and flew away from Scott, landing on his back.

“Sorry! Derek, I’m sorry!” Scott crowed, rushing over and offering Derek a hand up. Once Derek was vertical he wiped the dust and mud off of the back of his arms and attempted to catch the wind that had been knocked out of him.

“Scott-“ Derek wheezed, leveling a glare at his sparring partner. “Rule number one?”

Scott slumped in on himself. “That I never have to say ‘sorry’ when we’re sparring.”

Derek nodded, still catching his breath; he felt a stitch in his side which was new; usually his stamina lasted for hours. A quick blow like that had him jumping back to his feet, not gasping for breath.

Scott, being Scott, noticed.

“Are you okay?”

Derek nodded.

“Maybe we should take a break?” Scott’s voice lilted hopefully. He always appreciated a training session with Derek and was progressing amazingly now that the two of them were on the same side so to speak. But Scott would never be as accepting of violence as Derek was. Scott didn’t have Derek’s past; he hadn’t had violence and superhuman strength as his only allies. Derek thanked God for that.

“Do you wanna’ work on the, uh, the other thing?”

Derek nodded again. Even though he never said it out loud Scott was still terrified of the alpha form; terrified that it would consume him, that he wouldn’t be able to fight it, that he would turn into Peter. Derek and everyone else knew that Scott needn’t have worried, but the visions and hallucinations that the Nemeton caused didn’t only haunt Stiles.

It had taken Scott almost a year after seeing Derek in full shift to shyly ask Derek if he could work with him on it sometime.

“Okay,” Derek took a breath and faced Scott who was now crouched down with a look of severe concentration on his face. “So focus inward—clear your mind and take a breath.”

Scott nodded and did so—closing his eyes as he went; for someone supposedly clearing his mind he looked incredibly tense, Derek let it go for now.

“Now, pull your wolf to the forefront of your mind.” Derek took a step closer. “Give yourself over to it—give into the instinct. Focus on that part of you, pull it forwards; let it-“

“This is stupid,” Scott opened his eye and shook his head. “I can’t do it, I never get it right.”

Derek shrugged. “Well I could force it out of you by attacking you and catching you off guard, but I thought this might be easier.”

Scott’s mouth ticked up, but only on one side as he strode over to the steps of the Hale house. He sat down on the top step, opening a bottle of water and downing half of it in one gulp.

Derek always thought Scott didn’t fit with the backdrop of his burned down home behind him. Stiles and Lydia—even the Sheriff—looked fine with the building behind them, but not Scott.

Derek slowly walked over and sank down next to Scott—taking up the water bottle when it was handed to him. Derek still couldn’t understand why the full shift, or even the alpha shift, eluded Scott. The alpha shift should have been second nature at this point and he didn’t have to be a born wolf to do it. Derek had heard of plenty of turned alphas who didn’t have a problem shifting to an alpha form, if not a full shift. Scott was strong, centered, and mentally capable; he was no longer fighting being a werewolf but accepting each change that came with it. Everything was lined up for him to shift alongside Derek, yet after months of attempts and ‘training’ he was making little to no progress.

“You know,” Derek cleared his throat after they’d been sitting in silence for some time. “You know what might help?”

When Scott didn’t answer, he pressed on. “An anchor.”

Scott’s face completely shut down. Derek had neglected to bring it up for weeks, the name Alison, right there on his tongue but unwilling to come out.

“It doesn’t,” Derek didn’t know why he was continuing, he was certain Scott did not want to hear this, especially from him. “It’s not a replacement, Scott. You don’t have to think of it like that; just something else that can center you, that you can focus on and tie yourself to.”

Derek assumed Scott’s lack of response and shuttered expression had to do with the thought of Derek—who went from having Kate to anger to nothing as anchor—giving him advice on the subject. But then a strange scent began to pour off of Scott—embarrassment.

“It’s not that,” Scott started, rubbing a hand over his now red face. He reeked of discomfort. “There’s actually…someone, that I’ve started to-that I’ve been-“

Derek nodded, starting to understand. “That’s good, really good. And you don’t have to tell me. You just need to start using it.”

Scott nodded and stood up again. “Let’s try one more time.”

Derek followed Scott to the clearing they’d been in and watched as the alpha closed his eyes and started focusing his breathing—there was already a much calmer aura than before surrounding him.

“Okay,” Derek lowered his voice. “Clear your mind and pull your wolf forward; let the instinct take over you.”

Derek never knew if he was doing this part right—he just described what he felt before shifting.

“Your wolf is a part of you—focus on that.” Scott closed his eye and looked more centered and calm than Derek had seen him in a while. “Good, give yourself over to it--become the wolf, embrace that side of you; think of your anchor, that grounding, constant feeling. Something that can’t be shaken and shift.”

Scott gasped and opened his eyes, they were bleeding red. His nails elongated, his teeth lengthening, his face contorting. There was almost a glow, an energy, burning all around him, he was almost there when-

“Stiles!” Derek shouted, a gasp pouring out of him. Scott stopped, stepping forward and shifting back to human in an instant.

“Well, yeah, it’s Stiles, but why did you-”

“No!” Derek’s heart was hammering in his chest, beating in time with Stiles’ jack-rabbit fast heartbeat that he could somehow feel and hear alongside his even though he knew Stiles was miles away. “He’s in danger Scott, I can feel it, I can hear his heartbeat. We need to move-”

Derek wasn’t even finished and Scott had already taken off into the woods, loping forward on all fours and turning to give Derek a blazing look. “Which way?”

By the time Scott and Derek barreled into the clearing in the preserve, they could see an omega with his claws at Stiles’ throat as Stiles kneeled before him.

Stiles’ eyes shifted over to his two packmates in the minutest of movements. ‘’Bout time,” He muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

Scott stood there, chest heaving, too afraid to move as he glared at the omega. “What do you want?”

The omega smiled, leering at Derek and Scott, a mouth full of decaying teeth revealed. Derek never knew what it was with these evil wolves and their bad hygiene.

“I heard there was a powerful mage in this town-”

“You and every other supernatural creature in a twenty mile radius,” Stiles said, the witch from a few days past clear in his mind.

“Quiet,” The omega hissed, using one claw to slice a small cut across Stiles’ adam’s apple. Derek rumbled out the lowest growl he could muster as he watched Stiles’ blood start pooling and dripping to the bottom of his throat. 

“And I required a favor, a magical one,” The omega continued as if uninterrupted. “You see it’s not wise to be a wolf without a pack, but no wolf nearby will take me, like this.” And he flashed his eyes in Scott and Derek’s direction, the cool, electric blue of Derek’s own eyes staring back at him. “You see most packs don’t respect when you murder everyone else in your pack besides your alpha. And your alpha certainly doesn’t want you around after that.”

“Why didn’t he kill you?” Derek asked, his eyes never leaving Stiles’ face as the younger boy took deep, gulping breaths and started to shake with the effort of staying stock still.

“Ah, well, he thought it would be better to make an example of me,” He continued, using one hand to wrap around Stiles’ throat. Scott and Derek both jerked forward at the movement but stopped as the omega tightened his grip. “Mark me as a killer of innocents and let me walk the earth without a pack who would take me.”

Scott’s eyes flooded with red, his voice coming out in a low, dangerous gravel that Derek had never heard of him before. “Get your hands off my pack member. He’s not going to help you.”

“Oh, I think he will,” The omega started and he pulled Stiles up by the throat, his hand still locked around his neck. Stiles gurgled and kicked out, his hands scrambling for purchase at the omega’s claws. “Or I’ll start with killing him and then kill the two of you.”

“Wait,” Stiles gasped out, his face turning a bright red. “I can help you--but first I need to,” He closed his eyes and clasped both of his hands around the omega’s.

The omega screamed and dropped Stiles like he’d been burned--which he had. Stiles didn’t like to use fire most of the time, Derek’s past always in the back of his mind, but he had enough power nowadays to use some when necessary. Stiles started to scramble backwards away from the omega, when the wolf’s eyes flashed blue and he reached down with his claws out--finding the first part of Stiles he could reach. His claws connected with Stiles’ side, immediately tearing through shirt and flesh and leaving a river of blood in its wake.

Stiles screamed, his hands immediately groping for his side. Scott let out the most bone rattling, deep, guttural alpha roar Derek had ever heard from him and was on top of the omega in seconds. Derek made to move forward--towards Stiles, when he felt it. A deep tear on his right side exactly where the omega’s claws had raked through Stiles. He quickly looked down and placed his hand over the spot, but could neither see nor feel a wound. But he could feel Stiles’ pain--aching and human right below the surface.

Derek pushed the pain to the back of his mind and ran for Stiles, reaching out a hand to cradle the back of the boy’s head when he crouched down next to him on the forest floor. “Hey, hey--look at me, you’re alright, you’re gonna’ be alright.”

Stiles grimaced in pain, opening his unfocused eyes to stare up at Derek. “Derek?”

“Yeah, hold on, we’ll get you out of here.” Derek wiped the sweat and wet hair off of Stiles’ forehead. He could still feel Stiles’ pain aching and stinging in his side.

“Don’t you ever come back to this land again. Don’t ever touch a member of my pack again, he’s mine.” Derek turned to see Scott over the omega, both of Scott’s hands now wrapped around the other werewolf’s throat. His voice was still that deep, terrible sound and his hands were squeezing at the wolf’s throat with all of his might. Derek could see the omega’s eyes roll back into his head and his breathing coming out shorter and shorter. Derek was frozen, he’d never seen Scott get this close to killing someone, to seeing his alpha this out of control.

“Scott-”Stiles gasped out, rolling his head to one side to look for his friend. Scott immediately jumped off of the omega, who stumbled up wheezing and took off at a run, not stopping to look back. Scott was at Stiles’ side in minute. One hand reached down to squeeze around his best friend’s and he placed the other at Stiles’ temple. The black veins running up Scott’s arms and Stiles’ body slumping to the ground in relief told Derek that Scott had taken most of Stiles’ pain. He could also feel it--the pain receding from his side as it receded from Stiles’.

Derek stared down at the hurt boy in question, a sheen of sweat over his face as he fought to catch his breath. “Stiles, what-” Derek started, not even beginning to make sense of why they could feel each other’s pain; whatever that witch had done had some residual side effects.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles grunted out, his chest rising and falling quickly with each breath. He looked up at Scott who gripped his best friend’s hand even harder. “I came out here to see if the witch had left anything behind.”

Derek looked up and around and realized they were in the same exact clearing where they’d encountered the witch days ago. Of course, Stiles had come by himself to see if she’d left any trace of magic behind. Of course he’d been dumb enough to come on his own, thinking he could handle it. A frown formed on Derek’s face at the thought. He realized he hadn’t seen Stiles since that morning after the witch, only Scott. The three of them usually checked in every few days, even if no supernatural horror was going on. As Stiles’ eyes skittered away from Derek and back towards Scott, Derek knew the younger man had been avoiding him.

“Stiles, shh,” Scott whispered as the other boy went to open his mouth. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

Scott’s free hand was in Stiles’ hair, moving in slow, soothing circles.

“I’m gonna’ lift you up now, okay?” Scott asked lowly. Stiles closed his eyes in pain again, but nodded. Scott lifted Stiles up as gently as he could and strode over to the blue jeep a few feet away, Stiles letting his head roll forward onto Scott’s chest.

Derek slowly rose to his feet and followed them, watching as Scott got Stiles settled in the passenger seat of his car. Scott was the only other person who was allowed to drive Stiles’ car.

“Are you taking him to Deaton’s or the hospital?” Derek asked Scott through the open window.

“Hospital--my mom’s working and it doesn’t look as deep as it could be.”

Derek nodded. “I’ll meet you there.”

“No,” Stiles groaned from the other side of the car, opening his eyes to look over at Derek. “It’s fine, we’ll see you later.”

And with that Scott shot Derek a nervous glance, started the car, and sped off towards Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital.

Derek was left staring after the car with a slight aching in his right side from pain that wasn’t his and a confused longing in his chest.

He didn’t fall asleep that night until he felt Stiles’ pain almost fully drop away and the boy’s heartbeat slow down in sleep. 

\---------- 

When Derek first woke, he was disoriented and drenched in sweat. This should have been the first bad sign, but sadly Derek was used to waking up in strange places and heart-racing situations by now. He couldn't remember falling fully asleep, but this didn't mean he hadn't, more likely he had been knocked out.

The second thing he noticed--sensed really--were the two other people in the room. Stiles was directly across from him sitting in a wooden chair, hands bound behind him, and his legs bound to the chair itself. He was drenched in sweat and even though his face was set in grim, steel determination Derek could see tears and sweat leaking down his face. Derek could only imagine the pain Stiles’ still healing side felt being stuck in that position. But a quick inventory of his own body revealed that Stiles’ side felt fine--or their bizarre pain empathy had ceased.

On Derek's left was Scott. Not surprisingly he was also bound to a chair, but his arms and legs were tied with wolfsbane laced ropes and electrical wires running on a high frequency; if the low buzzing noise coming off of them was any indication. It took Derek longer to realize he was in a similar state. A quick tug of his hands sent a spark racing down his spine and a quick burn of wolfsbane across his wrists. He didn't try to move his legs; he figured it'd be much of the same and he kept as still as he could, thinking that his pain may still be transferred to Stiles.

It took Derek even longer--why were things processing so slowly--to realize the fourth figure in the room. The witch. Just as tall and terrifying as she had been a few nights before--all of the energy in the room seemed to be focused on her as if she was sucking it inwards.

"I'm tired, Stiles, just choose," She was chiding; standing behind the boy and glaring down at the back of his head. She started pacing behind him with her arms crossed, she couldn't have looked more like the Wicked Witch of the West if she tried.

"No." Stiles grunted.

She smiled. "What no witty comeback? No snappy repartee? No plea to convince me?"

Stiles turned his head around slowly to face the witch and spat at her feet. "No, just no."

"But you have to choose Stiles! Whose life to take? Your best friend?" The witch strode over to Scott and placed a long fingered hand down his face, scratching his cheek as she went. The wounds opening slowly and leaking blood sluggishly. And with a snap of her fingers the wound was closed. "Your brother?" She asked, her hand taking refuge in the depths of Scott's hair.

Stiles flinched at the word--brother--Derek had never seen him do so before.

"Or," She came to stand between the middle of the three of them, facing Stiles and with her back to Derek and Scott. Derek turned to look at Scott, he was only an arm’s length away, if only he could get to him without electrocuting Stiles or himself.

“Your new bondmate? The ally that never quite fit, but you coudn’t stay away from.”

Bondmate? Derek had heard the term before but not in a long time. If he and Stiles were bonded, well then that would mean a whole sort of things Derek didn’t fully understand. He hadn’t heard the term ‘bondmate’ since his parents had attempted to explain it to him when he was seven years old. But the shared empathy and pain suddenly made a lot more sense if they were bondmates.

“Stop,” Stiles pleaded--and Stiles never pleaded. “I can’t choose.”

“But you must, Stiles,” And then the witch’s voice turned into a low, accented hiss. Her face was being wrapped in cloth and she grew inches taller. A mouth of sharp, metal teeth stared back at them and when the witch rose to her full height, she’d changed. She’d morphed into what Derek knew was the image of the nogitsune that still haunted Stiles’ dreams. “Choose, Stiles, or I will kill all of you.”

“NO!” Stiles shouted, tears streaming down his face and his expression contorted with grief. “Not again, no!”

“Stiles!” Scott bellowed. “Don’t let him in, you’re fine, you’re with us, don’t let him-”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Stiles was mumbling to himself, shaking his head back and forth with his eyes closed. Derek felt his heart break in his chest to see strong, unstoppable Stiles reduced to the quivering mess before him--to be reminded of his past pain like this. Derek was going to rip a hole through the witch/demon the second he was free.

“You won’t choose?” The nogitsune hissed, reaching out a hand to run down the side of Stiles’ face. The boy flinched away. “Fine, then I will choose for you.”

And with that the creature was striding towards a door at the back of the room that Derek had just noticed.

Stiles was still muttering to himself and Scott was murmuring gentle words to his best friend, Derek could barely hear them as he tracked the nogitsune’s every move with his eyes. The nogitsune opened the door and dragged someone in by their jacket collar. The person had their head hanging down low and was stumbling along after as if injured. Derek could smell the blood from where he was sat, the person’s overall scent was familiar. And when the nogitsune dragged the man into the circle and the light hit him, Derek immediately knew why.

“You wouldn’t choose, Stiles,” The demon said dragging out the s. “So, I’ll choose for you; he will be the one to die.” And with that he shoved Stiles’ father down to his knees in front of his son. When the Sheriff looked up, Derek could see a large bruise on the top of his right temple, blood blooming from the spot and a length of duct tape over his mouth.

Stiles finally opened his eyes and stopped his muttering to see his father laid out before him.He let out the most blood curdling scream Derek had heard--in more pain than earlier when he’d had his side forcibly ripped open.

“NO!” Stiles bellowed, as his father attempted to tug at the ropes binding his hands behind his back. “NO!” Stiles screamed again tugging at his own restraints like a man possessed. The chair he was tied to scraped along the floor as he threw his whole body into the movement. “No, take me, take me instead, kill me!”

And with Stiles’ scream rebounding all around him, Derek woke with a start, gasping for breath. He found himself alone in his bed where he’d fallen asleep hours before. Derek looked around his empty bedroom then closed his eyes, listening if anyone else was in the loft. But it was empty, everything was fine, calm even. It was just a dream--just a dream, but then why could he feel a heartbeat still frantically pounding in his head and chest? One that wasn’t even his?

Inside of him, he could feel an overwhelming sense of unease and could still somehow hear Stiles’ voice. It was lower now, just whispered shouts and pleas, muted inside of him. Where was he? Why could Derek feel him and hear him? He remembered the door from the dream and realized it wasn’t his dream at all, it was Stiles’.

Derek leapt out of bed and to his feet, racing down the stairs of his bedroom, the stairs to his building, and out onto the street. He stood there barefoot, torn in between galloping to Stiles’ house on foot or jumping into his car, wanting to wake Stiles up from this dream as quickly as possible. His wolf was screaming at him to sprint there, to soothe, to protect. But he knew it would be faster to drive and he darted back inside for his keys; finally throwing himself into the car and peeling down the street.

When he pulled up to Stiles’ house and turned off his car, he couldn’t hear anything strange. Everything on the street seemed quiet and normal, but Stiles’ heart was still pounding like mad. Derek couldn’t smell the sheriff and figured he was at work, so he took two bounding leaps up to Stiles’ open window.

The scent of Stiles’ distress hit him square in the face when he walked in and there he was; laid out on the bed, the sheets and comforter kicked to the bottom of it, a sheen of sweat over his face, and his arms twitching against him in sleep.

“No,” He murmured again, tossing his head back and forth on the pillow. Now that Derek was here all of the adrenaline rushed out of him; he approached the bed slowly. Stiles’ voice was in his head reminding him that waking people who sleep walk or have night terrors can cause a heart attack.

He kneeled at the top of Stiles’ bed, right next to the boy’s head. He reached down and gripped Stiles’ shoulder as gently as he could, giving the boy a small shake.

“Stiles, c’mon, wake up,” Derek said softly. “It’s just a dream, wake up.”

It took three more hard shakes, before Stiles was sitting up with a gasp. His eyes shot open and he looked over at Derek, taking in huge gulps of air and still looking scared out of his mind.

“Hey, hey,” Derek soothed, moving his arm so he was rubbing circles at the top of Stiles’ back. “It’s okay, you’re awake.”

Stiles was still staring at Derek with wide eyes, sucking in as much as air as he could. It was probably the first time Derek had seen the other boy speechless.

He noticed Stiles’ trembling hands and everything clicked into place. “This is real, Stiles, I’m here and it’s real. I promise you.”

Stiles still didn’t look convinced, so Derek reached out and gripped both of Stiles’ hands in his.

“Ok, ready, we’ll count, okay?”

Stiles didn’t nod, but he was staring at Derek as if he understood.

“One,” Derek said, unfolding Stiles’ right pinky against his own. “Two, three, four, five. That’s one hand, see?”

Stiles finally nodded and closed his mouth.

“Ok, next hand,” Derek said pulling Stiles’ left hand closer to him. He slowly repeated the step, finger to finger, until they counted to ten. 

Stiles closed his eyes and let out a breath when he was done, he let his forehead fall against Derek’s shoulder, and all of the tension seemed to drain out of him.

Derek gently reached up to cup the back of Stiles’ head, he could feel the terror Stiles felt receding through whatever shared feelings bond they had, which he still needed to get to the bottom of, but not just yet.

He noticed a glass of water next to the bed and nudged Stiles with his shoulder so he looked up. Stiles took the water gratefully and downed as much as he could.

He was staring at Derek with a hopeful, yet nervous, expression in his eyes. Derek had never seen this side of Stiles--so quiet and unsure. He didn’t dislike it, but it sure was strange.

Derek took Stiles’ hand in his and pulled him down against the pillows next to him. They settled against Stiles’ large plush pillows and Stiles stared back at Derek, only a hair’s length away.

“Tomorrow,” Derek started. “You are going to explain what the fuck you and that witch did to us.”

Stiles at least had the decency to look guilty, before nodding.

“But for now, we sleep, alright?”

Stiles closed his eyes and nodded gratefully. Derek waited until Stiles seemed to settle before closing his own eyes. It struck him how relieved he felt whenever Scott and Stiles were out of danger, how content he felt knowing that Stiles didn’t have to sleep by himself tonight and be faced with another nightmare alone. At that moment, Stiles reached down and wrapped one hand around Derek’s wrist, just holding him in place. Derek could feel something thrumming between them, a golden sort of warmth. Fuck, they were really bonded weren’t they? 

Derek didn’t know if he would have rushed over here as quickly as possible and assure Stiles that his nightmares weren’t true if there wasn’t this bond growing between them. Then again, Derek remembered staying up with Stiles the whole night of Allison’s funeral. They’d sat in the hallway outside of Scott’s room, he hadn’t let either of them near him, but Stiles had wanted to be nearby, just in case. Derek sat across from Stiles all night, not saying a word, just watching as Stiles counted his fingers over and over, scratching at his arms to stay awake, because he felt he didn’t deserve to sleep after what he’d--the nogitsune--done to Allison. He’d only stopped when Derek had sat himself next to him and pulled both of the boy’s hands into his own lap. Stiles had slumped back against the wall, letting silent tears roll down his face and Derek rub circles into his wrists until the sun came up. They never spoke of it again, but would sometimes would reach out and tap each other’s wrists on a day when the other really needed it.

Derek let these thoughts carry him into sleep, one chasing the other over the countless times he shared a moment with Stiles and the moments they’d shared since the witch’s arrival. After a while they blurred together and became indecipherable from each other.

Derek woke again a few hours later, to someone tugging on his shirt and mouthing, “Derek,” against his neck.

He could feel tears on his neck and Stiles shaking against him. Scott had told him once that if Stiles had a nightmare he usually had more than one a night, but then they’d drop off for a week or so.

“Hey,” He mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. “C’mere.” He pulled Stiles closer against his chest and let the younger boy fist his hands into Derek’s t-shirt.

Derek wrapped an arm protectively against Stiles’ back and didn’t sleep again until he felt Stiles breathing even out against his chest.

\----------

When Derek woke the next morning, Stiles was waiting at the edge of his bed, fully dressed, and with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Hey,” Derek grunted out, reaching out to take the coffee with a nod of his head. “Where are we going?” 

“Deaton’s,” Stiles replied, getting up to pace around the room, his hand absently rubbing at the wound on his side which was bandaged, but still stinging. 

“Come here,” Derek said plaintively, setting his coffee down. Stiles strode over and settled in front of Derek, staring down at him. Without a word, Derek reached out a hand and touched the side of Stiles’ arm. He pulled enough pain from Stiles to get rid of the stiff aching in his side and letting him move without the stinging--as if he knew the exact amount of pain Stiles was in.

“It works both ways, I feel yours, you feel mine,” Derek said, answering the question Stiles hadn’t even asked. “So, Deaton’s?”

Stiles nodded. “He probably knows more about these types of bonds than anyone else in this town. And technically I’m not supposed to do as much magic as the bond took without asking him.”

Derek snorted and shook his head. Stiles rolled his eyes, he didn’t feel like vocalizing to Derek that he’d saved his life, yet again.

“Can we stop at my place first?” Derek asked, the tips of his ears started to turn red. “I didn’t wear any shoes.”

Stiles laughed. “Fine, Scott’s on his way over here to get us anyway.”

If Derek wondered why Stiles had asked Scott to come pick them up, he didn’t say anything, just waited patiently for him to show up.

\----------

“There are many different types of soul bonds,” Deaton was stating infuriatingly calm as usual. “There are mating bonds, pack bonds, anchor bonds, and the like.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose at ‘mating bonds’ but hoped Derek hadn’t seen, he wasn’t that much of a dick. Scott nudged him gently in the back of the knee, of course he’d seen.

“There are also irreversible life bonds, which it seems is what you, Stiles, have done to yourself and Derek.”

Stiles felt his knees buckle a bit at that, but put on an indifferent face before clearing his throat. “Irreversible?”

Deaton nodded.

“Figures,” Derek huffed. When Scott and Stiles stared at him, waiting for an explanation, he continued. “Figures you would create an irreversible life and death bond without knowing what you were getting into first.”

“Excuse me? Pretty sure you would be dead right now if it weren’t for my life and death bond. So no need to thank me-”

“Thank you?! For cutting me open and linking us together forever-”

“Enough,” Scott said quietly. He didn’t need to let the alpha tone bleed into his voice to make Stiles and Derek go silent.

“Thank you, Scott,” Deaton smiled. “I think the important thing to do here is to explore the reach of the bond and discuss possible side effects.”

Derek huffed again.

“Would you mind telling me the differences you’ve noticed thus far?”

Stiles braced himself before starting, “Well, we can feel each other’s pain--not to the full extent I think but our bodies seem to share some of the pain between us. And I think that might work for intense emotion too, but we haven’t had that happen yet, right?”

Derek didn’t meet his eyes, but he nodded slowly to his feet.

“I feel a bit weaker,” Derek said lowly. “Like my healing and strength aren’t at their height. I also can hear his heartbeat-” Stiles’ eyes widened at that “-when he’s in danger, even if he’s not in my hearing distance.”

Deaton nodded along as if these were typical symptoms he heard every day from the families who came in to get their dogs neutered.

“And, I saw his dream,” Derek stopped. “I mean, it felt like it was mine, but once I woke up I could feel his panic and knew it was his nightmare.”

Stiles paled at that and nudged Derek’s foot with his. He knew it was strange that Derek had shown up in the middle of the night last night at the height of his nightmare, but he didn’t know he’d witnessed the whole thing. Stiles paled at the thought and Derek met his eyes with a blank expression. But Stiles could see a bit of an ‘I’m sorry for unknowingly entering your worst fears nightmare’ in his eyes.

“I see,” Deaton replied, glancing over at Scott, who remained as quiet and stoic as ever. “Now, Stiles, did this witch say anything to you? About why she was here?”

Of course Deaton already knew or had a remarkably close hunch Stiles was sure.

“She said I shouldn’t be with a werewolf pack--she made it seem as if there were battles between mages and werewolves for centuries. She said something about me not owing them anything and to not waste what small amount of magic I have on them.”

“And then she killed Derek,” Scott finally spoke up. Stiles now nudged Scott’s knee in turn. “She did it as if it was nothing, like she was trying to prove to Stiles how much stronger she was than us. That the pack bond was nothing.”

Scott’s eyes were shining with emotion, but Derek looked calm and unbothered. In the grand scheme of the shitshow that was his life, being murdered in an instant by a witch may not have ranked as high as Stiles had originally thought.

“Sounds like she has a vested interest in you Stiles,” Deaton continued. “She probably knew that you would attempt the soul bond to save your pack member’s life. To weaken your magic and his power by forging you together.”

“Great,” Stiles muttered sarcastically. “So you’re saying she’ll be back then?”

Deaton nodded with a small smile, as if he was happy Stiles had finally answered one of his questions correctly.

“But she will be expecting the magic to have failed, that Derek will be dead, and you will be drained of magic after failing to complete such a complex bond. She didn’t count on you using Scott.”

“Me?” Scott stepped forward. “What do I have to do with this?”

“You were the witness,” Deaton explained calmly. “You forged the bond together. The bond would not have worked with three strangers in the room. It needed to be those with a relationship already established. And with a witness who had a grounding presence to both of those exposed to the bond.”

Stiles had expected as much, but hearing it said aloud made it that much more uncomfortable. The three of them had been bonded for years now and probably always would; by pack bonds at the least. But to hear it said aloud, and by Deaton no less, the affect they all had on each other, made it even more intimate.

“But, will the bond affect me too then?” Scott asked. There weren’t many of Scott’s expressions that Stiles couldn’t read and he seemed to almost look hopeful at the thought for some reason.

“No,” Deaton said. “The bond is Stiles and Derek’s to share and build.”

Stiles ignored the crestfallen look on Scott’s face, now was not the time to reassure him that he would always be Stiles’ number one bond and an intrinsic part of both Derek and himself. There were more important matters at hand.

“So, this bond-”Stiles gestured between himself and Derek. “Will the side effects ever go away? Will he get his strength back and my magic get back to where it was?”

Deaton shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid not. The bond is for yours to do with what you will--to strengthen it, to ignore it, to use it. It should move between you in a way the bond you’ve already forged has.”

Stiles blushed at that. “And will we always have to be near each other?”

Not surprisingly, Derek looked alarmed at that. It’s not like Stiles wanted to be chained to the other guy for his whole life as well. They’d come along way since that first day in the woods, and their pack bond was stronger than other, but they were still Derek-and-Stiles; both too stubborn to admit that while they were plenty of things they didn’t like about each other, there were even more, and far more important things, that they did.

“I don’t think that will be completely necessary,” Deaton replied. “But I wouldn’t venture too far from each other. Especially if one of you are in danger; the other will be able to feel it. Your instincts will tell you to join your bondmate-” Stiles flinched at the word “-as soon as you can.”

Derek nodded to himself as if this made perfect sense. Over-possessive prick.

“Anything else we should know?” Derek asked, glaring into Deaton with his jarring, green eyes. As if he was X-raying the vet for the truth.

“I’m afraid so,” Deaton sighed. “Because Stiles essentially took what was left of your soul and fused it to his. You cannot have this happen again.”

Stiles expected as much, he didn’t plan on being soul-bonded to every person he had something of a relationship with.

“This also means, that if one of you should die. Their would be dire effects on the other.”

Scott made a small noise in his throat at that, standing straight and stock still.

“You mean-”Stiles started, his fingers trembling a bit.

“Neither can live, while the other survives,” Derek mumbled to himself.

“Are you seriously quoting Harry fucking Potter right now?” Stiles screeched. Derek, of course, only shrugged in response.

“It’s not that only one of you can live and the other cannot, it’s that if one of you should die, then you both will,” Deaton replied matter of factly, as if he hadn’t just sealed their death with that statement.

\----------

When Scott came to pick Stiles up to get the stitches removed from his side, he hadn’t spoken to Scott or Derek in a week. He wasn’t avoiding them per say, just spending all of his time researching everything he could about bondmates and soul bonds and death and not answering either of their texts or phone calls.

Scott, being Scott, didn’t push it and drove Stiles to the hospital in silence; happy to sit there and let Stiles grip his hand when needed while his mom pulled the stitches out and gave Stiles a clear bill of health.

It wasn’t until the drive home that Scott decided to open his mouth.

“So.”

“So?”

“So,” Scott paused. “You and Derek?”

“What about me and Derek?” Stiles huffed, folding himself further into the passenger seat of Scott’s mom’s car. “Something about Derek and I having a magical destiny bond together in which we share pain and emotions, can always tell what the other is feeling, and if one of us dies that both of us do?”

“Yup, that.” Scott nodded, not taking his eyes off of the road.

Stiles slumped, wiping a hand over his face, rubbing the four day old stubble he found there. “I mean, I didn’t have a choice-” He steamrolled on when he saw Scott’s mouth open in protest. “But I can’t help be a little nervous about being death-linked to the guy who has had at least 17 near death experiences.”

“Eighteen, I would say.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and punched Scott on the shoulder.

“Stiles, listen,” And now Scott had his serious voice on. “I know you had to save Derek, I would have done the same thing. But I need you to be careful. I need you both to be careful. I can’t, I can’t lose either of you--”

Scott was cut off by Stiles roaring in fury--he jerked the car to a stop, watching as the seatbelt tugged at Stiles’ side and he winced in pain.

“Stiles, what-”

“It’s Derek,” Stiles gasped, closing his eyes. He held a shaking hand to his side. “The witch is back and he’s gone after her.” Stiles was speaking slowly as if he was possessed.

When Stiles opened his eyes to look at Scott they were glowing Derek’s electric blue. 

“Go, Scott, go!” Stiles screamed, his hands clenched at his sides and shaking with fury that Scott knew was not his own.

Scott would never regret Stiles saving Derek’s life, but he would never forgive himself if Stiles opened himself up to another being again and lost another part of himself.

\----------

By the time they arrived to the Hale house where they could see Derek roaring at the witch from afar, Stiles was drenched in sweat and barely holding himself together. Scott didn’t know if Stiles’ body was built for holding Derek’s anger and his urgent need to avenge/protect/defend those he loved.

“Derek!” Scott screamed, running around to the other side of the car to support Stiles out of it.

Derek didn’t turn his back on the witch, just grunted around his fangs to acknowledge their presence. 

“Derek,” Stiles panted. “Please, calm down.”

He still didn’t turn around, but he visibly settled, his low growling stopped reverberating through Scott.

“Ah, little one,” The witch inclined her head to Stiles. If it wasn’t for the slightly unhinged smirk and narrowed eyes, she’d look like any other mid-30s attractive woman in Beacon Hills. “I see you’ve lost a bit of magic since I last saw you.”

There was a burst through the clearing, and Kira and Malia ran out from the woods. Liam and Lydia trailing behind them. Derek still didn’t tear his gaze from the witch.

“We came as soon as we could,” Malia huffed out around her fangs, hissing at the witch as Kira pulled her sword from her belt.

“Ah the cavalry I see,” The witch extended her arm, reaching out to run a hand down Derek’s chest. Scott was surprised Derek hadn’t bitten her arm clean off. That’s when he realized Derek was frozen, his eyes bored into the witch and he snapped his fangs at the air in front of her.

“Don’t touch him.” Stiles growled. “Don’t ever touch him again.”

Stiles stumbled out of Scott’s grip and seemed to focus all his energy towards the witch. Something sparked off of his hand and towards the witch. She laughed as it rebounded off of her and into a tree.

“Which one should I kill this time Stiles? You can’t save them all,” She said, running a hand over Derek’s hair. Derek closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. “Or you can come with me.”

“Why do you want him so badly?” Lydia stepped forward, studying her nails as if she didn’t care about this conversation in the slightest. Scott took the opportunity to tap his middle finger and thumb on his right hand together twice; signaling Liam to go around the witch’s right side. Thank god for talkative distractions. They were usually Stiles’ job but he was still standing there, chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon, staring at the witch’s hand on Derek as if it pained him.

“A banshee in a werewolf pack as well?” She asked. “You all follow along blindly to these dumb brutes?”

“Dumb brutes,” Lydia lifted up one hand as Malia started wrapping around to the witch’s other side slowly. Lydia lifted up her opposite hands. “Close personal friends, tomato, to-mah-to.”

Liam and Malia both jumped at the witch one after the other. She pulled Liam out of the air with one hand, the other not leaving Derek’s heaving chest, and threw him into a tree. She dodged Malia’s claws and shot a stream of fire at her instead. Malia spun away in time that only her right pant leg caught the flame, and she rolled into the dirt to put it out.

“You see the power you could have Stiles? You could be unbeatable.”

Scott felt Stiles at his back, coming up slowly behind him. His breathing had finally returned to normal and he wrapped a hand around Scott’s wrist. He usually only did that to ground himself. That’s when Scott felt it’ the energy and magic thrumming through Stiles. When he opened his eyes, they glowed bright gold.

“I think I’m good, thanks,” He bit out.

The witch stared down at where her hand was splayed against Derek’s hand and watched as Derek’s chest glowed gold as well.

She shrieked and pulled her hand back, holding it close to her. The second she stepped back, Derek was on her. He was still glowing the same bright gold that matched Stiles’ eyes and he reached down and sunk one of his claws into the witch’s arm.

Kira came around the other side and sliced a deep cut down the witch’s other arm. She hissed and a pool of energy seemed to flow out of her.

She laughed as Scott came towards her, tugging Stiles as he went. With a look to Kira and Derek they let her up gently and Scott had the witch with both hands behind her back. 

“Taken down by the big, bad werewolf pack,” She laughed, rolling her head in Scott’s grip. All of the fight seemed to go out of her as if she’d wanted to be caught and taken down.

Derek stepped up to her, still glowing gold a bit, but his eyes burned blow as his canines elongated. Behind him Scott could see Stiles eyes start to turn blue as well.

“Enjoy my magic,” She whispered as Derek reached out and ripped her throat out with his claws.

She slumped in Scott’s arms, her strings having been cut and Scott laid her gently on the ground.

When Derek closed his eyes and reopened them, they were their usual green hue and his claws and fangs retracted back into his body.

“Is she--dead?” Liam asked, stepping forward.

Stiles turned to answer him, when he slumped forward, his eyes fluttering shut. Derek reached out automatically, but Scott was there catching him in his arms before he could hit the ground.

\----------

“You can grip harder if you need to.”

“I’m fine, Scott,” Stiles huffed with his eyes closed. He contradicted himself by grabbing Scott harder around the wrists. Scott let his fingers run gently over Stiles’ in turn.

Stiles kept his eyes closed and kept his breathing open. He let Scott tap thirty taps gently on the inside of both wrists.

He listened to Scott’s quiet breathing for a few minutes, it still had the slight hitch at the end even though he technically didn’t need an inhaler anymore. Stiles supposed once your body got used to something it kept at it.

“Good?” Scott asked. 

Stiles waited another minute. He let his knees rub against Scott’s and squeezed the other boy’s wrists in response. He felt grounded, centered.

He opened his eyes and there was Derek. He was standing behind Scott, his arms crossed over his choice and a small smile on his face.

When Stiles looked down, Scott’s eyes were open and waiting for him. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

He tugged Stiles’ hand once, before crossing the room and jumping from the window.

“He learned that from you, y’know,” Stiles nodded towards the window. Derek rolled his eyes and kicked up his foot gently against Stiles’ knee.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

Stiles stood, dislodging Derek’s foot and made his way towards the center of his bed.

“You wanted to wait until I wasn’t leaking magic everywhere anymore?” Stiles smiled up at Derek.

Derek rolled his eyes. “I knew where you were.”

Stiles didn’t press, he knew Derek had been checking in with Scott. 

“So, Deaton thinks that was the witch’s plan all along.” Derek came and sat the head of Stiles’ bed, taking his shoes off, he nodded at Stiles to show he was listening.

“I guess sometimes mages know when they’re going to die and they can either just let their magic die with them. Or they can release it into the world and make a new mage. Or they can pass it along to a mage they think is worthy.”

Derek nodded and leaned back against Stiles’ pillows.

“I guess the whole bond and the-”

“Killing me,” Derek supplied.

“Yup, that. It was all a test of my magic, to see if I could handle it. The magical destiny bond is just a side effect I suppose.”

Derek snorted and tugged at Stiles’ wrist until he was lying next to him on the bed. Derek had his head tipped up and his eyes closed, but he kept his hand around Stiles’ wrist.

“And you and Scott just now?” Stiles stared up at Derek, watching his lips move.

“It’s a thing we do. Ever since the nogitsune,” Stiles paused. “Most days are good days, but some days it’s still hard for me to know.”

“Know?”

“What’s real and what’s not, that I’m awake, that the witch and the soul bond weren’t a hallucination.“ Stiles sighed, rolling over towards Derek’s side.

“With the witch’s new magic and me feeling your stuff,” Stiles sadly couldn’t think of a more articulate word for when he felt Derek having a strong emotion or a sudden burst of superhuman strength that he knew wasn’t his. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s actually mine.”

Derek made a curious noise at the back of his throat. “Does it feel like it did before? Like you’re not in control of yourself?”

Stiles nodded against Derek’s arm. “A little, I know I’m not going to hurt anyone this time around, but it still can be hard to feel fully in control.”

“And Scott?” Derek settled his nose in Stiles’ hair.

“He helps,” Stiles shrugs. “He keeps me centered, grounded. He tells me what’s real.”

“He’s your anchor.” The note in Derek’s tone wasn’t jealousy, but it was slightly accusatory.

“Humans don’t need anchors. Mages don’t need anchors.”

“But you do,” Derek whispered into Stiles’ hair. “You need Scott.”

Stiles couldn’t tell if it was the time spent with Scott or Derek’s presence right now, but he felt pretty damn grounded. He let Derek drag his fingertips lightly against Stiles’ arm until he fell asleep.

\----------

After that night, Derek and Stiles spend a liberal amount of time together. They were not ‘inseparable’ as the rest of the pack had decided. They were just exploring the new bond between them.

They trained together, learning how Stiles’ magic affected Derek and Derek’s strength and reflexes affected Stiles. They know they’d only defeated the witch because Stiles’ magic had flowed through Derek and made him more powerful. Stiles cut his hand and let Derek use his healing powers to fix it.

They spent time sitting in silence, Derek reading books, and Stiles doing his summer reading for his classes in the fall. Learning to be a unit, drawing strength from each other.

Scott called it platonic dating, Malia called it sexual tension, John called it weird, and Stiles called it soul bonding. Derek rolled his eyes at all of the terms, but at ‘soul bonding’ the most.

Whatever it was, it seemed to be working. Derek felt more calm and centered than he had in years, he still felt a bit unsure now that he was able to give a bit of his power to Stiles and take a bit of Stiles’ magic on. But it also felt nice having a partner.

Stiles rarely had nightmares anymore, but when he did Derek was either already asleep next to him in one of their beds or only a car ride away.

One night, when Stiles had woken up gasping at three in the morning, his nails digging half moons into his arms, Derek nuzzled Stiles’ neck with his nose and pressed a kiss into his hair to calm him down.

“I think,” Derek whispered, Stiles’ face aglow from the moonlight flooding in through the window. “I think I can’t tell if what I feel is because of the bond or if it was always there?”

“Does it matter?” Stiles asked, resting his lips gently against Derek’s sternum until he went back to sleep.

While the rest of the pack rolled their eyes and claimed they all had been placing bets on the two of them for years, (although they’d technically never kissed on the lips, so Derek didn’t know why Kira and Lydia were always handing Liam money) Scott seemed to keep his distance.

Derek finally managed to have a moment alone with Scott in his kitchen after a training session. Stiles was passed out on Derek’s couch, a quilt Derek had made draped over him, and an anthropology textbook spread across his lap.

Derek saw a soft smile spread across Scott’s face as he looked over at his friend.

“He’s doing good, yeah?” Scott raised his eyebrows at Derek. “You both are?”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded, handing Scott a cup of coffee and taking one for himself.

“And he’s been taking care of himself? Less nightmares, less magic?”

It struck Derek how odd it was for Scott to be coming to him for information about Stiles. He knew that the two still spoke, if not, saw each other every day. But Derek couldn’t remember the last time Stiles and Scott had a grounding session similar to the one he’d walked in on a few weeks ago, oh. Oh.

“He’s still your anchor Scott,” Derek said, nudging his head in Stiles’ direction. “You’re still his, that hasn’t changed.”

“I know,” Scott smiled sadly at Derek. “And it never will.”

He put the coffee down and clapped Derek on the arm, leaving the house without a word. Stiles slept on.

\----------

Derek was at the grocery store in the middle of the afternoon. It was a Wednesday, Stiles was heading back to college in six days. Deaton had said they didn’t need to be in constant close proximity, that the bond would be fine without it, but Derek wasn’t so sure. 

His phone buzzed in his back pocket. A text from Stiles: Can you come over?

Stiles swore that the two of them would be able to communicate telepathically soon, but Derek had his doubts. So for now, they texted.

Derek didn’t bother replying, instead he went home, put his groceries away, and then drove over to Stiles’ house. He didn’t know if it was too soon to suggest getting an apartment close to Stiles and Scott’s dorm and getting a job. He didn’t know if it was too pathetic.

Derek let himself into the house without ringing the bell, John wasn’t home and Stiles was too lazy to calm down. And he was trying to break his ‘pesky window habit’ as Stiles called it.

When he got up to Stiles’ room he saw Stiles leaning against his window as if blocking an escape route and Scott leaning against Stiles’ desk with his arms crossed.

“Ah, Derek,” Stiles smiled happily at him. “Gang’s all here.”

Scott huffed. “What is this about Stiles?”

“Derek?” Stiles asked, coming over and grabbing Derek’s hand in his. Scott’s eyes darted to their linked hands then flitted away. “Would you mind telling Scott what I was saying to you just two nights ago?”

Derek shot Stiles a confused look, but squeezed his hand and nodded. “You were saying that you could always feel the bond going back and forth between us,” Derek gulped, he’d thought Stiles had been half-asleep when they’d had this conversation. He certainly didn’t want to acknowledge it aloud, but Derek remembered that anything he told Stiles was for Scott to know as well. “And that it made you feel really full, but you still felt as if there was a part of you missing.”

“That’s exactly right,” He smiled. He tugged at Derek’s hand and led him over to Scott who was standing there with a bewildered expression on his face.

Stiles reached out and grabbed Scott’s hand as well.

“Stiles?” Scott asked, looking utterly perplexed.

“Don’t you guys get it!” Stiles shrieked. “The witness!”

When Derek and Scott both shot each other equal ‘Stiles is crazy’ expressions, Stiles shook both of their hands in his and kept going.

“There is no bond without a witness!”

Scott still looked as if he thought Stiles was losing it, but oh, oh, Derek finally got it. Stiles had a beaming grin on his face, but a question on his face. He wasn’t necessarily asking Derek for approval, just for him to understand. Derek nodded.

A giddy laugh burst forth out of Stiles.

“Stiles, I still don’t get what’s-” Stiles barreled into Scott, pressing his lips against his best friend’s in the most sloppy, enthusiastic kiss Derek had ever witnessed. He held onto Derek’s hand the entire time; while Scott stayed stiff and unresponsive, then sighed into the kiss, then attacked Stiles’ mouth with as much vigor as the start of the kiss.

When Stiles pulled away, he was still downright beaming. Scott’s face was flushed and he had a strange expression on his face, like he was daring to be hopeful but scared he might get it wrong.

“Does this mean?” Scott started.

“It means,” Stiles said, tugging both werewolves behind him towards the bed and sitting down on the edge of it. He let go of their hands and smirked up at them. “That I won’t you inside me. Both of you.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Scott yelled, tackling Stiles to the bed and knocking their heads together. Breathless laughter spilled out of both of them until Scott looked down at Stiles with wide earnest eyes, and his small, private for-Stiles smile.

“Hey,” He murmured, rubbing his nose against the other boy’s.

“Dork,” Stiles whispered before leaning against the bed so Scott could fold himself further over him and join their lips together.

It was much more languid than the first kiss. Scott and Stiles took their time trading tongues and pressing their mouths to each other, stopping at one point to roll their bodies in one fluid motion and breathe against each other.

Derek’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it before. It wasn’t just Derek and Stiles’ bond. Maybe Scott couldn’t feel it, but it wasn’t anything without him. Also you couldn’t bond with Derek without bonding with arguably the biggest and most secure piece of him--Scott.

“Derek?” Stiles whispered against Scott’s mouth.

Derek crawled gently onto the bed, coming to a stop next to Stiles’ side.

“Yes?” He smiled down at Stiles.

Stiles just rolled his eyes, before grabbing the collar of Derek’s shirt and pulling him down for a bruising kiss. Derek fell into the kiss, into Stiles. He felt like he was drowning in it, in the best possible way. He moaned into Stiles’ mouth and ran a hand through Stiles’ hair, tugging a bit at the ends. Stiles’ breath hitched, Derek had known he would like that. He started nosing at Stiles’ neck, rubbing his stubble in the spot behind his ear when he felt a tentative hand at the small of his back.

He leaned off of Stiles and turned to see Scott behind him with a shy smile on his face, his hand making its way under Derek’s shirt and rubbing at the skin there.

“Hey Derek,” Scott said in amazement, the how the fuck did we get there apparent in his eyes. Derek’s eyes darted from Scott’s lips back up to his eyes, and tried to ignore Stiles’ huff of laughter behind him.

Derek leaned forward, a challenge to a young alpha. Scott just smirked back at him and reached a hand out to cup the back of Derek’s neck.

Scott ended up brushing his lips gently to Derek’s first. Derek laughed as his lips met Scott’s.

“Shut up,” Scott grunted, biting down gently on Derek’s bottom lip. That shut Derek right up. He let his tongue delve gently into Scott’s mouth, chasing the other boy’s tongue and licking the roof of his mouth.

He lost track of time by the time he felt a tongue traveling its way up his back. Stiles sucking bruises and leaving bite marks in his wake. Derek had lost his shirt at some point it seemed.

Once Stiles got to the knob at the top of Derek’s spine, he reached a hand across Derek and rested it on the side of Scott’s face.

Scott bit at Derek’s lip one more time before the older boy pulled back and leaned his weight into Stiles’ chest.

Stiles rested his head on Derek’s shoulder and bit gently at his ear lobe.

“That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Derek laughed and knocked Stiles backward, landing on top of him. Stiles let out an ‘oof’ and rearranged them so that Derek was behind him. Derek rubbed the top of his nose against the hairs at the back of Stiles’ neck.

Derek closed his eyes and breathed in Stiles’ warm scent. “You coming?” Derek asked Scott, opening an eye to see Scott on his knees at the edge of the bed, a look of wonder on his face.

“Just enjoying the view,” He whispered, crawling forward on his hands and knees until Stiles reached up and tugged him down on his other side.

“Shut up, you loser,” Stiles muttered, rubbing his face against Scott’s chest.

Derek sighed, listening to Scott laugh and Stiles settle. He felt something slot into place in his chest. He knew what Stiles had meant earlier about feeling only half-complete.

\----------

When John came home he put his bag and empty thermos down and then made a beeline for Stiles’ room. Scott had texted him a day earlier, letting him know Stiles had been pushing himself and his magic a bit far lately and that he needed to take it easy. The fact that things like magical fatigue could affect his son were still unsettling, but also made a perfect sort of sense that Stiles was magic. It also didn’t surprise John to have his unofficial second son going behind his son’s back and texting him directly when he was worried about Stiles.

He climbed the stairs as quickly as he could and saw Stiles’ door was wide open. He could see Stiles’ foot sticking out at the end of the bed even though it was the middle of the afternoon. He entered as quietly as possible, to check on his sleeping and still healing son.

He stood stock still once he got a full view of the bed. A number of emotions tumbled through him, fighting for dominance. But mostly he felt shocked and not surprised at all. Because lying across Stiles’ bed on either side of him were two half naked werewolves; Derek and Scott to be exact.

Derek was spooned up behind Stiles’ back, holding the boy as tightly as he could in his arms. His top arm was draped as far as could across Stiles so that it was brushing Scott’s right elbow. Stiles was in the middle, using Scott’s chest as a pillow, his mouth hanging wide open. Scott seemed content enough with one arm buried in Stiles’ hair and the other reaching across him.

John sighed and ran a hand over his face. He knew this day had been coming, but didn’t know what iteration he’d be faced with. Somehow it made perfect sense that it would be the three of them. And that Stiles wouldn’t settle for being with one supernatural boyfriend, that he’d need to have two.

John took a post-it note off the stack on Stiles’ desk and wrote a quick note before going back downstairs.

Stiles would wake warm and content hours later, with Scott pulling a post it off of his back that said ‘Close the door next time. There’s pizza in the fridge. Love, Dad.’

END.


End file.
